


Four Times Donna Almost Remembered, and One Where She Did

by waldorph



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02-03 Hiatus, Season/Series 03-04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-07
Updated: 2008-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/pseuds/waldorph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh my God," Martha says, and looks like her heart is breaking.  "You remember."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Donna Almost Remembered, and One Where She Did

**Author's Note:**

> Some minor Britpicking happened, but I'm an American, so.

**1.**

 

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorts, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she types. Wicked job, this. Give even the temps a Bluetooth. She's so late, everyone else has gone home, and here she is, trying to finish this last bit and talking to flipping Carlene.

"I swear," Carlene says, snapping her gum on the other end of the line. "All twiggy and skinny-like. I mean, how can you have a decent, you know-" she pauses and makes that grinding noise in the back of her throat that's supposed to be sex, and Donna laughs because honestly, Carlene is such a twat. "I mean, I got nothin' to hold onto, and he's all "Wot, babe?" an' I'm like, "Nuffin'" an' he don't even get it, right, so I'm laughing and- Donna. _Donna_, you even listenin' to me?"

Donna frowns at her computer monitor and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, no. I'm listenin'."

For a minute she thought she saw...that man, what was his name? The one Mum'd had after everyone'd been nattering on about how the Earth had moved and all that codswill. Bloody bullocks was what it was. Jon Smith or something.

"Right," Carlene snorts. "Oh, hell, hang on, Himself just showed up."

"I'll talk to you later," Donna informs her, and Carlene makes a pained noise right before Donna disconnects.

Marvelous things, Bluetooths. Even hanging up is more satisfactory. She laughs to herself, and looks up to see a scrawny man with messy hair and- she...oh, her head hurts. John Smith, but with this little...thing that glowed blue on the end.

"Have a coffee," a young man says. "I made a pot, but everyone else has already gone home. I hate to see it go to waste."

He's Welsh, and young. Must be down in accounts- pretty face, blue eyes, and oh yes, please, coffee's just what she needs for the walk home. She thinks it's funny he wears a suit with a waistcoat, but she appreciates a man who wears pink, so she smiles at him and takes the cup.

"Thanks," she says.

"My pleasure," he replies, tilting his head and smiling before walking away to take care of the grinds.

The coffee is delicious, and she tries to savor every drop. She falls asleep as soon as she gets home and falls into bed still clothed. She misses everyone's calls, but it was her first day and she worked hard. She figures she deserves a little sleep, thank you.

Carlene asks her what she thinks of her new man over lunch, and what to do about her situation.

"What new man?" Donna asks, squirting ketchup on her burger. Honestly, what does the world have against ketchup? Never enough. Not like ketchup's expensive. "What problem's this, then? That he exists only in your head?"

"You know, I was just tellin' you yesterday. God, Donna, say you listen?" Carlene demands, angrily. Donna stares up at her as Carlene rises to her feet like the bleached blonde wrath of God.

"You been hitting the drink?" Donna demands. "A little sauced?"

"Oh, fuck you," Carlene snaps, and stalks out. Donna shrugs, calls Nerys, and eats Carlene's chips.

 

**2.**

  
"Cap'n Ja-" he breaks off, looking at her and then double-takes. God, but he's bloody gorgeous. All broad shoulders and blue eyes and _yes, please_. "Jack Harkness," he finishes, and oh- that smile. She's gone weak in the knees. Even if he is American.

She smiles at him, tosses her hair over her shoulder and wets her lips with her tongue. "Donna Noble. I'm just a temp here," she explains.

"Best in Chiswick?" he asks, and yeah, all right, he's flirting! She's still got it.

"Absolutely. Type over 100 words a minute," she brags.

"We'll be outta your hair in a minute," he promises, glancing over his shoulder. "Ianto-"

She follows his look to the man in the pinstripe suit- oh, aren't we posh?- and he glances up after contemplating the coffee for a scandalized minute.

What's wrong with instant?

"Yes, Mickey's just running a brief check-through," Ianto replies professionally. "And yes, Gwen's gone to keep an eye on him."

What's a Welshman doin' up here in Chiswick?

"Excellent," Jack Harkness replies, and smiles at her again. "Like I said. Outta your hair in no time."

"Jack," Ianto drawls the name out.

Donna frowns when Jack's smile goes bright and wider and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Sorry," she says, shaking her head and pressing her fingers between her eyebrows. She knew she should have switched to decaf, but no. No, she had to go on drinking the regular and now she's getting a migraine. She wonders if she can make a claim about that. Coffee-inflicted injuries. "Do I know you?"

"I think I'd remember meeting you, Red," he replies. "Never forget a face. And I'm sure you'd remember meeting me."

Oh, he's a cocky bugger, ain't he? Maybe he's got a point though. She's not likely to forget that face. Or that _arse_, get a load of that.

Pinstripes clears his throat, and she lifts her eyes and then her eyebrows at him. "What?" she demands.

He just looks at her for a minute- pretty boy- and then turns to look at the black girl coming in.

"All cleaned up. He didn't inhale much, just enough to make him a bit...influenced," she says, stripping off plastic gloves. "Mickey's going to take him home...Gwen's driving, though. Though that might be best. Mickey's still a bit...." she makes a face.

Donna stares at her, and her migraine gets worse.

"Good," Jack Harkness says, and sighs gustily, pleased about something. "I like these kinds of missions. Nobody dies. And all of us still wearing clean clothes."

"Yes," Pinstripes murmurs, and oh, yes, isn't he fussy? "Shall we be getting on, sir?" he inquires pointedly.

"Yeah, sure." Jack turns to her, and hands her a cup of coffee. "Decaf," he tells her with a wink. "And not instant either. Don't tell the boss, I lifted it for you."

She grins at him. "You want my number?" she asks.

"I'll take your number and your name," he replies, leaning in with a grin. Pinstripes rolls his eyes and exhales, and the dark girl laughs quietly and links her arm through his.

Donna flushes, and scribbles her mobile number down on a sticky note. "I'm Donna."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Donna," Jack says as he takes it, and he kisses her hand before swirling out with a flap of his coat, shooing the other two to the lift.

Oh, yes _please_, she thinks, sipping her coffee. Oh, it's good.

"Jack, that was _Donna_," she hears the dark girl hiss. She glances back at Donna pityingly, and Donna frowns defensively.

She doesn't need some little bit of nothing judging her. She...

needs a nap.

She frowns, sitting back down as the office settles back to normal. Something about Barney the delivery boy going homicidal. She never saw any of it. But still, someone like that. Bound to go mad at some point.

She yawns hugely around a smile. "Captain Jack Harkness," she murmurs appreciatively.

 

_"Don't...just....don't."_

She stiffens, and her migraine gets worse. A man- skinny little thing with animated hair and big geeky glasses and something about Mars and...

When she wakes up an hour later it's to Nancy, the receptionist across from her, saying, "Donna? You okay to go home or you need a lift?"

She shrugs, shakes her head, and says, "Yeah, no. I'm fine. Don't worry, just...tired, I guess."

"Headache any better?" Nancy asks, and isn't she a lovely woman? Bit of a throw rug, really, but still. Lovely.

"Yeah. Guess I just needed a nap," Donna replies, looking around her desk, shutting off her computer and picking up her purse. No headache, but she's groggy- like the nap didn't do her any real good.

The next day when she hears about Barney down in delivery going slightly homicidal and that really handsome bloke who came in and sorted it she snorts and says that Barney was too boring to be homicidal, and that if there'd been a handsome bloke, she'd remember, wouldn't she?

 

**3.**

  
Her friends finally all compile bits of YouTube scrap and BBC reporting and blog bits and they all get well and truly soused at a bar downtown as her best friends try to convince her that aliens are coming. Donna needs new friends.

"Bollocks," she sing-songs happily.

"What about your wedding, then?" Gweneth asks. Jesus, she's got Ted nearly between her legs already, slut.

"I don' wanna talk about Lance," she snaps. God, that'd been awful one of Nerys' pranks gone really wrong and then him drowning like that. Teach her to work in a posh office like that- no thank you. Not working for security systems ever again, and definitely not falling for a man who makes her coffee.

Bound to end in disaster.

"You disappeared in a beam of gold lights," Nerys snorts. "An' I didn't have nothin to do wiv that, thank you very much."

"Oh, give it a rest, Nerys."

"What about the killer Christmas trees at the reception?" Derek demands, pointing at her with his beer.

"Hey, folks, I'm about ready to close up, here," the bartender says, smiling. He's got dark skin, little bit of stubble, and sharp brown eyes. Nose is a bit pointy too. But he's been good with the drinks, so Donna smiles at him. "Here. Last round's on me, since you guys all tipped so well all night."

They all shrug, because none of them's been tipping much since Harriet Jones was kicked out of office. Say what you want about that woman, but the economy's not been the same since she left. But free drinks.

"Here's to Donna," Nerys sneers. "Hopelessly stupid about everything."

"Go die in a gutter, Nerys," Donna replies cheerfully, and knocks back the shot.

"All right, all right, back to mine, then," Derek says. "I've got a few bottles with our names on it, and that wedding video!"

They all stagger back, feeling woozy, and when Donna wakes up she can't remember the last night.

"Hell of a party, eh?" Nerys asks as they struggle to the bathroom on legs like noodles.

"Must've been," Donna replies, grinning broadly. "Can't remember a damn bit of it, so yeah!"

Derek's complaining that someone stole a video from him, but he can't remember which one and when they find a blank tape in the toilet they all make fun of him.

God, but they were drunk last night.

 

**4.**

  
"Permission to board ship, sir," Donna says, smiling at Gramps, camped out back with his telescope. Every night, until 22:00, he's out there.

"Permission granted." He shifts, stiffer than he used to be. Looks a bit sad still. She wonders why, but when she asks he just shakes his head, says it's him gettin' old.

"Seen anything?" she asks.

"Nothin' special. Mars looks nice tonight. All red and glowin'."

"We're almost there. Hear there's ice on Mars? The Americans found it. Said it'd be good for asparagus and beets. There's a thought. Martian asparagus and beets. Why would they grow that?"

"Just to see if they could, I reckon," Gramps replies with a smile.

"I was going to go for a walk. Want to join me?" she asks. "Lonely, walking by yourself."

"Yeah, I could do with a walk," he agrees, standing stiffly. She stands back and lets him stretch in peace, and then they head down the street. "Mother been at you again?" he asks.

"No, not lately," she replies. "Strange, innit? I mean, a few months ago she was on my case every day. Now...I dunno. She seems...proud of me." She can't fathom that, either. She's still just a temp. Even if she is a bleedin' good one.

He nods, and then looks away.

"Gramps," she says. "You got something you want to tell me?"

"What? No, what?" he asks.

 

_"What? What? But- what?"_

"Donna?" he asks. She shakes her head.

"Headache," she dismisses, pulling her hair back from her face.

"You've had a lot of those, this past year," he presses gently. Poor Gramps, so worried about her when he's the one with a weak heart and getting on in years.

Mum's nagging's not helping any of those things, either, Donna thinks with a little bit of anger.

"Doctors haven't found anything," she replies, trying to soothe his worries. "Dunno what's wrong with me. Fit as a fiddle, otherwise, that's me."

"Hm," he agrees. He steps off of the curb to cross the street, and out of the corner of her eye she sees a blur of headlight and a second later hears the screech of tires.

"Look out!" a voice shouts, just as Donna yells,

"Gramps!"

She pulls him back as a car whizzes past, far too fast. An SUV with tinted windows follows close behind, and there's a shout from within it and blue lights calmly flaring. They disappear around a corner and then they're gone, and Donna sits up and helps Gramps, checking frantically for injury.

"Oh my God, you both all right?" a young woman asks. She has pretty wide eyes and dark hair and her smile is genuine and concerned. She must have been the person who shouted a warning.

"There was a blowfish in that car," Gramps says, shakily. Donna sighs and shakes her head, but doesn't say anything.

"Probably some pranksters," the young woman replies. "I'm Gwen. Come on in, I'll make you a cuppa, you both look white as sheets, and you could both do with a sit-down."

"Donna, and thanks, but we'll be-"

"No," Gramps says. "I need to sit down a minute. A cuppa would be fantastic."

Gwen smiles and they come with her into her apartment. Donna frowns about.

"Pretty empty," Donna remarks.

"I'm just movin' in," Gwen explains apologetically. "I've got my bed, my kettle, and a few dishes. Tomorrow my mates are comin' up to help me move in."

"Welsh?" Gramps asks curiously.

"From Cardiff," she agrees, beaming. She shows them her engagement ring and wedding band, and Donna is absolutely not jealous, thanks. "My husband and I are movin' up here for his job."

"What do you do?" Donna asks, as Gwen hands them both a mug with tea in it. She keeps an eye on Gramps, because she's worried about him. He's not getting younger, and almost bein' hit by a car can't be doing his heart any wonders, but he looks better now he's over the shock.

"Oh, I'm with the police," Gwen replies, smiling brightly. "Getting transferred was a bit of a hassle, but it'll be worth it."

"I'll bet."

"And what do you do...sorry, what was your name, again?" Gwen asks Donna.

"Donna Noble, and I'm...well, I'm a temp." That's lost its charm, though. She feels lonelier and emptier every month and she doesn't know why. Her doctor doesn't know why, and neither did that hack of a psychiatrist.

"Oh, that must be interesting," Gwen says earnestly. Donna finishes the tea, and shrugs.

"It pays the bills," she replies. "Well. We should be going. Gramps, you ready to go?" she asks.

"Yeah, yes," he agrees, standing stiffly.

"You need a lift?" Gwen asks, standing with them. "I'd be glad to."

"No, we live just down the road," Donna explains. "Thanks for tea."

"My pleasure."

On the way home Donna sees a man from World War Two and thinks she needs more sleep and less stress.

She needs a plan for her life. And possibly Seroxat.

 

**5.**

She looks up at the sky, and feels desperately lonely as she gazes past Millennium Stadium. No idea why she agreed to come down here- she's only a temp. Cardiff isn't London, and these people all talk funny.

But, like Mum says. If they're sending her to a conference, must mean they're thinking of hiring her on full-time. Might be nice. She should have a proper job. Might as well. Not like her love-life's going nowhere, and she might like a career, even as a secretary.

She wraps her arms around herself, and the frowns. "Bloody headache," she mutters, rubbing her forehead. Feels a phantom coat wrap around her- too small. Fit a scrawny little...

She looks up at the stars, because she loses the thought, and sees them going out. She blinks, hard, and they're all there. Her head hurts worse, and she's crying and she doesn't know why.

"Donna," a girl says. She's 20-something. Ring on her finger. Donna's never seen her before in her life- except...

 

_"Should have known, didn't take long to replace me." _

> _"Didn't take you long to get over him though, who's the lucky man?"_
> 
> _"What man, lucky what?" Scrawny, tall, completely oblivious._
> 
> _"She's engaged, you prawn." She's affectionate about him, though. Even if he is useless._
> 
> _"Really, who to?"_
> 
> _"Tom. That Tom Milligan." She's smiling so brilliantly, is Martha Jones._

 

"Jack," the girl- Martha. Martha Jones, that's her name. Martha, who travelled with...oh, she can't, her fucking head hurts too much. Martha touches her earpiece. "Jack, we need retcon."

"How's Tom?" Donna asks quickly. "Oh. You married him."

"Oh my God," Martha says, and looks like her heart is breaking. "You remember."

"Remember _what_?" Donna asks desperately, but Martha has turned away, shouting again,

"_Jack_!"

Oh, and isn't he lovely. She'll have him and an order of chips, thank you.

"Donna Noble," he sighs. "Most important woman in the universe."

"Stop triggering it, and retcon her!" Martha urges. There are tears in her eyes- why is Martha, brave Martha Jones crying? She's holding Donna's hands, but Donna's gone all fuzzy.

"I give her any more retcon and she'll end up like Suzie's serial killer," he replies, and oh, his eyes are sad. Pretty Jack, why so sad? Why is everyone so-

"Where am I?" she demands. She's...no idea where she is. Everything went black, and now she's here, on a... eurg, how old is this sofa? Martha Jones is sitting next to her, and there's another woman behind her. Pretty face, lots of dark hair, gap between her teeth. She has an earnestly sad expression on her face, like she's trying to give Donna strength except-

Donna doesn't understand why the fucking hell she should need strength! What is going on?!

"What the hell is this place?!" she persists, getting louder as she gets more frightened.

 

_"What?" _

_"What?"_

_"What?" He seems stuck on this theme, and looks utterly daft._

_"Who are you?" she demands._

_"But-" he starts._

_"Where am I?" she shouts._

_"What?" he asks, and now she knows he's a complete idiot._

_"What the hell is this place?" she yells louder, desperately scared._

_"What?"_

 

A man- Jack- lays his hand on her leg and says,

"You're in Torchwood, Donna." She refocuses in on him.

"Torchwood. What is that? Are you terrorists? Well, I am just a temp and no one is going to pay ransom for me and if you don't let me out right now I'll-"

"No, no, we protect people," Jack interrupts. His lips say, "people", but his voice says, "you."

 

_"Where the hell've you been?!" the man demands on the top left of the screen. Gorgeous, and somewhat like a wife waiting for her errant husband. _

She bends over, clutching her head.

 

_"You can do the explainin', Martian Boy."_

_"Yeah, I'm not from Mars."_

 

There's a hand on her back, and people are arguing and Martha and Jack are calling her name but she remembers- she remembers Agatha Christie- the Ood, Lance and the- spider woman, empress of the Rack-something. The Sontarans and that genius kid who was such a bleedin' idiot- and...and Jenny and bein' afraid of the shadows because things live in them- and...and that spa, that spa on Midnight! And then...and then Rose, and Jack, and Mickey and the Daleks and Sarah Jane Smith and Martha and Davros and...and the human Doctor and that stupid bloody hand and then...

 

_ "Rest of my life...travelling in the TARDIS. The DoctorDonna. I can't go back. Don't make me go back. Doctor, please. Please don't make me go back."_

_"Donna. Oh, Donna Noble, I am so sorry. But we had the best of times. The best. Good bye."_

_"No- no, no please! Please, no, no no...No!"_

 

And then nothing. Stupid life, best temp in Chiswick. And...

"You were watching out for me, all this time?" she whispers. Jack's eyes are pink and tear-filled, and Martha is holding her hand tightly. "You were trying to protect me. You, at the bar," she says to Mickey, "and you...you brought me coffee, and you took Gramps in me in for tea and you did clean up when..." she breaks off, staring at them all.

"We wanted you to be happy," Martha whispers, lips quivering even as she speaks, tears falling from her beautiful eyes. Martha Jones. Married, moved on, works for Torchwood, saves the world. Good for her- at least she got a choice in the matter. "We wanted you to- to live. We can make you forget, put you in stasis for a little while- Ianto and I will modify the retcon and you'll just forget it again. Jack's good at this, you'll see, it'll be all right. You can go back to your life. We've retconned everyone around you- everyone who went to your wedding or even saw you with him, you're safe, just-"

"No," Donna interrupts. The pain is so bad she actually can't feel it. She just feels...calm. At peace. She knows everything. She knows how this will end, how it has to end. She knows how hard they tried, but that every variation they work out will ultimately fail, and she'll see something that will trigger her and she'll always start to remember, and eventually she'll be a vegetable- like Alzheimer's, only Torchwood-induced. She knows that. She knows it the same way she knows that Jack and Martha and all of them- that they'll protect the Doctor from ever knowing, and when he does find out they'll ease the burden of it.

She looks around, sees Mickey leaning against a railing looking drawn and serious- and Ianto standing behind Jack, close enough that- oh. She laughs a little bit, because she can see now. Because she can _see_ now, her eyes are open again and oh, she missed this and it might be worth it just to have it for a second, have it and-

"Donna, stop," Jack says. "Donna, let us- just drink this. Donna. _Donna_!"

The room has gone golden. Strange thing, that the world should go golden. Maybe there can't be a human-Time Lord meta-crisis thingy, but that doesn't mean that she isn't one. That she doesn't want to end- she was such a better person, then. With him. Great alien dummy that he was, she was _better_ with him. She doesn't want to go back- she can't go back. She can't- she can't make that decision to go back to being that selfish, petty- nobody.

"It's all right, Jack," she tells him. "It's all right."

He looks at her, and she can see...forever in him. Feel all of time and space converging and standing still around Jack Harkness, and she wonders at it, and smiles.

"Donna Noble. Most important woman in the universe," he murmurs. She smiles, and then laughs because the gold is too bright, and she thinks she's crying but can't feel herself anymore.

And then he leans in and kisses her, and she feels it for what it is: good bye.

She dies as the most important woman in the universe, an impossibility. And she knows, because she is DoctorDonna, that this death is better than that life.


End file.
